Tuesday
11 June, 2013
Breakfafeaturing
That's
more like it – Big and little roads in Britain – Roundabouts –
Dropping into Ironbridge – A home-sick Aussie on the iron bridge – Down
the valley to Bridgnorth
That's
more like it
Breadfastst in bed this morning: a
tastily salty toasted ham sandwich, delivered, wrapped in silver
foil, by the hotel manager after I told him I would be leaving early before breakfast.
I lay in bed, munching, heard the swish swish of tyres
over the wet A 38 outside the window where a dirty white sky indicated a dismal day. Funny thing, but reactions to the hot, bright
weather of the past week had commonly been: incredulous gratitude (but this won't
last, mark my words), and even amazement as if five
pound notes were fluttering from the clouds. I knowingly said to myself: "There'll be sighs of
relief as normal conditions return, mark my words."
The hotel rules. We obeyed them all, including, sadly, the one about no slap and tickle of the wenches. |
At 7.30, having fare-welled David and
Neil, I stopped in the doorway to talk to two hard men dragging on
fags, sheltering from the wet in the porch of the hotel. They told me they were
from Birmingham, specialist metal workers who travelled the UK to
work. Four months ago, they worked in minus 14 in the Shetlands.
Coldest place ever, they said, bare and windy, miles from anywhere.
" But, ya know, many of the locals loved the place." They shook their heads in disbelief.
Big
and little roads in Britain
What route to IronBridge should I
choose today? Lonely Planet said: go up the Severn Gorge on B roads. The fastest route in this dampness is for me, I decided, so I took the
advice of friends who had chosen the A road on their trip last year.
A quick note about the UK roads.
M - motorway – routes forbid
bikes or pedestrians. They are multi-lane with a car speed limit of
70 mph (113 kph) though many go much faster. Stand in a lay-by and I
know you will be at least impressed, probably scared by the power,
the snarling roar of 30 ton trucks hurtling past.
A roads range from peaceful
two-way country lanes( limit 60 mph) to dual carriage way motorways (
70 mph) by another name. OK at best. Nasty, often.
B roads are two or one lane,
usually quiet, scenic but often steep. Better for cyclists, even if
you have to do more miles to get there.
Roundabouts
I was back to countryside riding after
eight kms of city riding through Worcester . Don't mind city riding
at all. It's the only time I get to pass cars, get to sneak through
little gaps between stopped traffic and get to be first in the queue.
The riding once out of town was over
gently rolling, 6/10 scenic countryside, rain dripping. I didn't
care. I had a tail wind, a gentle hand in the small of my back,
pushing me on; my speed was 18 – 25 with little effort, my mind was
flooded with positive thoughts. I sang a song my Aunty used to sing
to me when I was 5 ( so, it's quite an old song) to make the miles
roll along
“Sing
a right good cheery song
It
will carry you along
Thought
the sky is low and grey today
Soon
the clouds will roll away.”
I am happy to supply a dvd of me
singing these words to all interested. Discounts available.
I rode through Droitwich and
Kidderminster. Sounds easy but in those two places I went through a
total of 10 large roundabouts. I have always thought that riding into
a busy roundabout on a bike is like sticking your head into a giant
mincing machine, or your hand into an electric fan with specially
sharpened blades. So I don't ride through them ( unless I'm taking
the first exit and there's no traffic) . Mostly, I walk and push my
bike, crossing each lane until I get to my exit. I know. I'm a
pathetic ninny. But I would rather be a live pathetic ninny than a
dead squashed teddy.
A very nasty roundabout. I would definitely be pushing my bike across this one. |
Dropping
into Ironbridge
I began to regret my choice of route on
the A 442 between Kidderminster and Ironbridge. Now the going was
hilly and narrow and the traffic snarling and impatient. I promise
you that I did my best to pull off the road if I saw anything bigger
than a kid's tricycle behind me but sometimes, despite my left arm brushing
the hedgerows, despite riding onto the slender gravel verge,
sometimes there was just nowhere to hide. I got tooted at once, though I
am not sure if it was in anger or thanks ( for my swerving off the road into the waiting nettles), by the last in a line-up of six cars and two trucks
which had tailed me for a mile.
I did get a little pay-back near
Ironbridge when I found the Severn Cycle Way, not mentioned in Lonely
Planet, which gave me a gently downhill track through
woodlands, and a steep descent into Ironbridge, a town built round the Severn
River at the bottom of a steep-sided gorge.
A home-sick Aussie on the Iron Bridge.
Please visit Ironbridge if you haven't
already. It's a UNESCO World Heritage Site, scenic, historic and
touted as the 'heart of the Industrial Revolution”, because
Abraham Derby perfected here the technique of smelting iron with coke
and so devised a cheaper method of producing iron. Old workers'
cottages and Georgian boss's houses peer from the trees on the steep
slopes, but most visitors come to see the iron bridge, completed in
1781 to advertise the new iron production methods and the
iron-masters. It brought admirers from all over the world, still does
today, and I rode my bike over it !
On the far end of the bridge, I heard:
“ Hey, a bloody Kiwi. What's a Kiwi
doing so far from home?” And I met Gavin, a train driver from
Melbourne, in Europe for 14 weeks. He loved to talk.
“ Just been to the D day
celebrations in Normandy but I really came to see anything old to do
with engineering. Planes, trains, cars. I just love this place and
the museums. Can't get enough of it. Couldn't get my wife to come
with me, she gets bored with engines and stuff.....”
A bit later I heard him telling a group
of seniors:
“ See that guy there. He's from New
Zealand. Know where that is? It's a little island off the coast of
Australia. Ha ha ha.” The oldies smiled uncertainly and asked him
if he would please take their photo.
I felt a bit sorry for this noisy colonial who clearly missed his wife and I felt very sorry for all those polite English folk who he would continue to terrorise for the next eleven weeks.
The famous iron bridge, completed in 1781 as an advertisement for the iron-smelting skills of the local iron-masters. Three minutes after I took this photo, I was accosted by the home-sick Aussie. |
Down
the valley to Bridgnorth
David couldn't find beds for us in
Ironbridge so I turned back down the valley and rode 15 kms to
Bridgnorth. The guidebook, understandably, had warnings about the steep climb out of
Ironbridge ( “ a 5 mile climb up the side of the Wrekin gaining
180 m directly out of Ironbridge”) but the weirdest thing was that, once I had climbed out of the gorge, and despite going downstream, the road seemed to drop very little. No
matter, Bridgnorth was a delight, worth a bit of tedious travelling.
A smiling, helpful lady in the
Bridgnorth Library put me on course for the Severn Arms Hotel, and
by the time I clomped in the front door, I had already decided that
I could spend a long time in Bridgenorth.
Here are five reasons why.;
- The town is full of well-cared for old building – a town gate, a market place, cottages.... is built on two levels, joined by a funicular railway that looks like something out of a Mickey Mouse comic.
- We had dinner at a pub, two main courses of Steak and Kidney Pie for 6 pounds.
- Bridgnorth holds many festivals and concerts, especially in the summer months.: Burns Night, pantomimes, literary and music festivals, art exhibitions...
- Our hotel was haunted by the ghost of a little blond haired girl. No, I didn't actually see her, but I did see the 16th century distillery in a cellar carved into the hill in the hotel yard.
- Lower Bridgnorth is on the banks of the Severn River, and in the hotel there were many historic photos and engravings of the river traffic which used the river as a highway between the 12th and 18th centuries. Best of all, a funicular railway, with a little cabin like something from a cartoon, joined the upper and lower parts of the town.
David in front of the little railway car in Upper Bridgnorth.
Weather
Overcast, rain falling for 15 minutes
at a time several times. A glorious tail wind. Up till Ironbridge, my
average was over 18 kph but the trip downriver (into the wind and uphill) lowered it.
Distance today | Average Speed | Max. Speed | Riding Time | Odometer - Trip |
84.5 | 16.1 | 59.2 | 5 h 12 m | 596.7 |
The railway incline, looking down to Lower Bridgnorth and the Severn River. |
No comments:
Post a Comment